The Mind of a Madman
by Rasler-Heios-Nabradia
Summary: New Chapter! Osmund Saddler first arrived in Spain in the summer of 1990. A tale of boy meets boy, boy loves boy, boy goes crazy, boy tries to take over world. MM. Chapter six, Saddler gets his first glimpse of Hernan's suitor, Carmen. Ch. six revised.
1. Prologue

((Only one announcement. Enjoy.))

_It's so funny how things can end so abruptly. I didn't necessarily agree with your crazy methods, but I would have followed you to the ends of the earth, and yet you wouldn't let me. You're always trying to protect me._

_There won't be anyone to protect me now. They're all dead…_

_Diego died in the loft of the barn._

_Papa died bailing hay behind the barn._

_Mama died trying to sell chicken eggs in town._

_Santiago was decapitated in the hall of water._

_Bitores was dismembered._

_Andre was shot. I saw his body near Santiago's._

_Mercedes killed herself._

_Criston disappeared._

_Ramon turned into some horrible monster…_

_And you…_

_What is it that you turned into? A spider? You know I hate spiders. You can be such a jerk when you don't use your head. Who made you boss anyway? I certainly didn't. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the boss. _

_At least I got to kiss you goodbye. I hear lots of stories where people lose their loved ones and never got to say goodbye. We did. I just didn't expect it to be the last one. _

_The town is empty. Barren. It's like a ghost town. I find remnants of people I know everywhere. _

_I'm glad I didn't see you transform, though. I probably would have fainted, then what would you have done? Just promise me, in whatever way you can, that you fought your hardest. You always made me promise to fight my hardest. Did you?_

_I have to stop now, the nurse has arrived. She's probably going to try and feed me oatmeal again. I hate oatmeal. I like Mama's cream of wheat with strawberry sauce much better. Don't you? I love you. I miss you._


	2. 1990 Verse One

Year:1990

The air in the village was hot. It always was, but today it seemed especially still and thick. Hernan Mendoza still wore his long-sleeve button-up, his suspenders holding his overlarge pants up. The seventeen-year-old son of a farmer scowled menacingly at his friend, Diego. Diego looked more the part to be working on the Mendoza family farm than Hernan. Hernan was thin, feminine, and had the grace of a dancer. Diego had muscle, a strong chest, and a friendly, dim-witted smile.

Diego had short, brown hair and trimmed sideburns, and his strong voice would carry as he sang. He never worked with a shirt on unless it was cold. He only had three shirts, and he hated to sweat in them because he could only wash them once every two weeks. His friendly brown eyes warmed anyone who looked into them, and it was his dreamy gaze that inspired him and his good friend, Hernan, to explore their sexuality.

Needless to say, it didn't work. Hernan was adventurous, and Diego wanted to take it slow. It always left Hernan twirling a lock of his shoulder-length black hair around his index finger, bored, his own hazel eyes gazing at the ceiling, his full lips pursed. Diego had set his sights on another boy in town, and Hernan was waiting for someone to sweep him off his feet.

Hernan was lying on his flat tummy, lazily picking tomatoes off of his mother's beloved tomato plants. He watched the entrance to the village curiously. His father, the renowned Geraldo Mendoza, had hired a new farm hand. Apparently, he had finally realized that his eldest son didn't give a damn about farm work and it would be much more efficient to hire another, a live-in.

Next to Hernan there was a sign he had made earlier that week. It was a sign he was to hold up when their new hand got there. He was an American, and his Spanish was rusty at best. The sign was written in glue, then covered in green glitter. It said, in all capital letters, "OSMUND SADDLER COME HERE I SPEAK ENGLISH!!!!"

Osmund Saddler. Who was he? Why did a middle-class American man in his prime suddenly move out to a little pisshole like this? Hernan turned to Diego. "Hey, bend over. I need something to look at."

Diego gave Hernan a playfully rude gesture and suddenly perked up, glancing back toward the gates. "Yo, Hernan. I think that's him. I'm gonna go get a shirt on. Wouldn't want to intimidate him."

"Yeah, right." Hernan laughed, standing to hold his sign. He waved it at the man until he caught sight of it. He had one bag, and had been taxied into town at an inflated price. He took Hernan's hand and they shook, but Hernan held on for a beat to long, causing the newcomer to flush uncomfortably.

"Uh, hi, uh, I'm Osmund Saddler…" he fidgeted, staring at the boy. He seemed almost dead inside, or as if he were in pain.

Hernan cocked his head curiously. "Me llamo Hernan Mendoza. Welcome to the town." He smiled as friendly as possible. The man was tall, almost as tall as chief Mendez. Which reminded him, Mendez would want to know that he had arrived.

"Thanks, uh, gracias, I mean. I guess you're the farmer's son?" Saddler asked curiously, removing his glasses and polishing them nervously.

It seemed to Hernan that they were both equally terrified of each other. Saddler was rather handsome for a foreigner. He had slicked back black hair and elegant, arched eyebrows over his sky blue eyes. He had rectangular, wire-framed glasses that perched atop a slightly crooked nose, probably broken once in a fight. He wore a grey t-shirt and knee-length blue basketball shorts that showed off his powerful looking legs that had the sort of muscle definition that could only be attained through running track, or even cross country. On his feet were handsome white and blue Adidas shoes, only slightly dusty with the stale air.

Hernan decided he was won. He demanded to take the man's backpack for him and he led him down the trail to the Homestead.

"I wanted to thank you," Saddler began, "for taking me in on such short notice…I mean, I had always wanted to visit Spain, and with the divorce, I figured it was a great time to move."

"Divorce? Ay, that's rough. Is it one of those things better left to settle at the bottom of el lago?"

"Sorry?"

"Lake. El lago is the lake." Hernan gave Saddler a gentle smile and nodded. "Watch your step here, it's a bit steep. It's an upward climb in the morning to get to the farm, and a downward death trap when you're tired and stumbling at the end of the day."

But Saddler needed no warning. He bounded gracefully over the potholes, and came to a rest next to Hernan. The Spanish boy smiled. "American showoff."

"Less than you think."

They made it to the Homestead and Hernan showed Saddler into the smaller house. "Mi familia y yo sleep there." He said, pointing to the larger house. "Mama and my brother, Juan, are probably still in there. This house is all yours. You'll eat your meals with us, of course. Diego, the other farm hand, lives in the main part of the village, but usually stays for dinner before going home."

Saddler nodded, absorbing everything he was told. He took his modest supply of clothes and began to unpack, and Hernan caught sight of a picture of two young children, a little boy and an infant girl. He didn't ask, but his intuition told him enough for now. Maybe when he had Saddler's trust, the man would tell him.

Hernan took some spare bedding from the armoire in the corner and began to make up the empty bed. There was a set of sheets from Hernan's old bed that smelled of raspberries and may have been tinted slightly pink from the favorite fruit the village imported every year; he liked to put them in with his wash. They gave his clothes a slight color and made everything smell nicer.

He piled some blankets on the bed and smiled. "It might get cold in here at night, so if you need more blankets, don't hesitate to come to the house and ask."

Hernan suddenly grew painfully aware of his father's incessant screams. The man was nearing the tiny shack and Hernan ran an annoyed hand through his hair. "Ah, here comes the beast. Let me calm him, Lord Saddler, and I'll introduce you."

Saddler knew that Hernan was only being polite, but the boy's use of the term "lord" startled him. It had a ring that he was unfamiliar with. He shuddered. "Ah, just Osmund, Hernan," He smiled bashfully at the younger man as he turned to deal with his father.

"Hernan! Where in the hell have you been?" Geraldo Mendoza roared in Spanish. Hernan pointed curtly toward Saddler and frowned.

"Showing our new guest around, until you interrupted us, Dad." Hernan replied, also using his native language. His face was slightly sour. "And I'm gonna have to go up to the Chief's house. He'll be pissed if he doesn't get informed."

"And he'll want to throw a party that will have my new farm hand so inebriated that he won't be able to work for a week afterward," Geraldo growled at his son.

"I don't care, Dad, I'm telling Mendez. And we're all going to drink, even you. Get over it, you're just a rotten jerk. That's why I'm showing Lord Saddler around—you would have scared him off by now!"

The argument continued until Saddler cleared his throat. Both Spaniards looked up at him almost menacingly. "Uh…you wouldn't happen to have a band-aid, would you?" He held up a forefinger with a sizable splinter poking out of the tip.

A half-hour later, Hernan was leaping over carts and tripping over children to get to the Mendez household. What he didn't expect was to see the village chief, Bitores Mendez, in a lip-lock with the medical apprentice, Lola Diez. He backed off and was grabbed by the younger Mendez brother, Santiago.

"Basically the last person I wanted to be alone with this evening," Hernan barely whispered. Santiago hadn't heard him.

The younger Mendez was certainly the handsome one. With a shaggy curtain of black hair with a bit of premature grey and the palest skin in town, he was rumored to be the village vampire. He wore classic looking robes around the house and a dark jacket out in town. He was now sitting in front of Hernan at the kitchen table, his long fingers folded together.

"You have the worst timing of any boy I know," he said with a small smile. "Bitores was just saying goodbye to Lola."

"Uh, yeah, I saw that much." Hernan sat down and kicked his feet up. "I didn't even know there was anything between them."

"Ah, they've been going together since I was your age," Santiago said, pulling his hair into a sloppy ponytail. He stood, gliding to the kitchen and brought Hernan back a strong, fragrant mixed drink that the boy hadn't yet tried.

"I didn't know she was leaving," Hernan said, sniffing the drink. He could definitely smell vodka, and if he was correct—yes! Raspberry juice. He took a few gulps maybe a bit too quickly.

"Ah, yes, well…there's really only so much Dr. Salvador can teach her. She has to go to medical school. She'll be back in a few years, I suspect he'll have enough money to kick me out and propose by then."

"No kidding! They kept that one under wraps," Hernan giggled, already feeling bubbly from the vodka.

"Think about it," Santiago whispered. "How could they tell anyone without concerning the entire village? Once she's financially stable and he's established his name, it'll be fine. He has to look professional for _everyone._"

Hernan thought about and nodded just as Mendez entered and flopped down in another chair. He looked slightly depressed, but he brightened when he saw Hernan.

"Hernan, m'boy!" He beamed. "What brings you about our little house?"

"Be it ever so humble," Santiago muttered, earning an annoyed glare from his brother.

"Osmund Saddler arrived earlier. Maybe an hour and a half ago," The young man looked more like a little boy now that the alcohol was in him.

Mendez jumped up. "Well, now, why didn't you come to tell me sooner?" He rubbed his hands together in an almost conniving fashion. "Your father won't like it, but he gets the same welcome everyone gets when they come into town."

Mendez was right. Geraldo was pissed. "He doesn't take anyone into consideration but himself and his loser brother!" He hollered. Saddler sat with Hernan, Juan, and Maria, Hernan's mother, at the dining table. Hernan raised his eyebrows playfully at Saddler, switching to English.

"He's a son of a bitch, isn't he?" Hernan's family stared when Saddler snorted into his rice pudding.

The sun was beginning to set, and Hernan was standing. "Well," he began in Spanish, "I'm out of here. Don't know about the rest of you." He stopped and tugged on Saddler's arm. "You're coming, of course," he added in English.

Saddler quickly shoveled the rest of the pudding into his mouth and hopped up, following Hernan eagerly out of the room.

Hernan tried to ignore Juan tagging along, hanging far enough away to be out of Hernan's peripheral vision, but close enough to be obnoxious.

By the time they reached the farm, the sun was gone. Diego hopped out in front of them and tackled Hernan off his feet. "I hear Santiago opened his reserve," he howled in Spanish. "We've gotta get down there fast!"


	3. 1990 Verse Two

To Osmund Saddler, his welcoming party seemed like a brilliant excuse for the little town to get completely shitfaced. He already had a mug of ale in his hand before he was hurried by Hernan, his new friend, over to meet the chief, Bitores Mendez and his extremely creepy brother, Santiago.

"I hoping you have good evening," Santiago said in a low voice, his English choppy and broken. "I am liking to welcome you to our village."

"Yeah," Saddler managed, trying not to make eye contact with the staring Santiago. "Thanks, er…gracias."

"Spanglish," Hernan teased in a low voice, causing both Santiago and Saddler to make a face at him. Bitores laughed.

"Indeed, welcome. We all truly hope you like it here," said the giant bearded man happily. He clapped Saddler on the shoulder, and the young man nearly fell over under the force. "Have you met the future Castellan, Ramon Salazar?"

Saddler took one look at the boy and his heart broke. He was only six years old, with dull blue eyes and pale blonde hair. He was as pale as a ghost, and looked at him with a squint.

"This is Ramon," his mother said, smiling sweetly at the boy. Her English was perfect, but her accent had developed from living in Spain for several years. "He's…suffering a brain tumor, but we hope to get him to a doctor this summer…"

But Castellan or no, these people had no health insurance. For brain surgery…Saddler feared the worst. Triple figures. He smiled weakly at the boy and knelt down. "Hola. Me llamo Osmund."

The boy smiled. "Hi. I speak English. Sometimes." He seemed strained…with every word, it seemed as though his perpetual headache worsened. Saddler's heart ached for the boy. 

"Very good. You're very lucky to speak two languages, you know. If you wait till your old like me, it's tough."

The boy giggled a little bit and stuck his tongue out. "You're not old!" He smiled briefly before his mother whispered. "I gotta go…Mama says I need my sleep."

Saddler nodded and smiled, wishing he could take away Ramon's ailment, make him better. He only looked up when Hernan touched his shoulder. "That's not the half of it. That boy over there," he pointed to a young man seated by Diego. They faced each other and Diego signed as he spoke. "He can't speak. He just…was never able to. He lives with his grandma. She taught him how to sign…and Diego is learning, too."

Hernan walked over to sit down against one of the houses. Saddler followed him, sitting next to him. Both of them were a bit pink in the face from the ale that the ladies in town were kind enough to continually refill. "And myself," the teen continued. "I'm gayer than Liberace in 1972, and I've got every single woman in town after me..."

By now, Saddler was in hysterical tears of laughter, the boy next to him relating story after story about Carmen, the woman likely to be his wife.

"And you'll never believe what she left hanging from my shutters…"

"Oh God," Saddler giggled.

"Her brassiere!" Hernan screamed, wildly disgusted. 

Saddler inadvertently dribbled beer on his shirt, tears of hilarity streaming down his face. He finally freed up his mouth long enough to speak. "She sounds like a keeper."

"I might not have a choice. I've been waiting for my Prince Charming to get my out of here, but I've only got a few months until I'm eighteen, then I'm all Carmen's," Hernan sighed, looking suddenly miserable.

"What's it like?" Saddler asked, his voice quiet. 

"What's what like?" Hernan asked, turning his head to look at him. He made himself comfortable, studying the man fully, taking him all in.

He was delightful. His legs were powerful, muscular. His shoulders were broad and strong, and Hernan could only imagine was his chest and stomach looked like. He didn't bother hiding his blatant interest in him. Saddler had wonderful full lips and high cheekbones, and his glasses made his eyes look even bigger and shinier than they were.

"Being gay."

Hernan coughed, choking on his drink. He hadn't expected that question. Maybe something about farm life, or being married off to someone he hardly cared for, but not a curious question about his sexuality.

"Around here? Nothing but dangerous. Especially when your family has a bit of money and you're of marriage age. Diego and I tried…but he moved way too slow for me." Hernan tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, offering a little shrug. "

"How does your dad feel about that?" He asked, having a hard time meeting Hernan's probing eyes. The boy seemed to be looking for something, and Saddler was almost afraid to know what.

"My dad doesn't know. The only ones who know are me, you, Juan, and Diego." He gave another shrug. "I'm not likely to get my prince without coming out, but if I do, I'll be dead pretty fast."

"But what's it like?" Saddler asked. "Liking men instead of women."

Hernan grinned. "When we head home, turn your light on at twenty-till-two. If you do that, I'll _show_ you." And then, the lovely boy got up and walked away, leaving Saddler flushed and confused, his stomach fluttering and his body doing something stranger that caused him to get up and leave the party.

He walked back to the farm in a hurry, down the path toward the Homestead. He walked into his house and slammed the door, pacing back and forth between the two small rooms.

He tried not to be angry. He knew the boy was going to come onto him eventually. He just didn't think it would be so blatant, and he _really _didn't know if he was ready for that.

But he had had a difficult time ignoring the curve of Hernan's slender waist, the way his pants were too short and showed shaven legs, undoubtedly obtained with a razor his family didn't realize he had. His hair moved with a bounce when he walked, which no one else in the town had. His skin was creamy and mocha colored, and his eyes were chocolate brown.

Saddler shook his head furiously. Not only was Hernan male, but he was a _boy_, not even eighteen yet. Saddler was thirty. How would he explain that one if he was caught?!

If he was caught! As if he intended in participating in sexual—

And who said anything about sex? Saddler laid on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. One way or the other, it was going to be an extremely long night.

((And I need opinions. :D What path should Saddler take? Hmmmmmmmmm.))


	4. 1990 Verse Three

It was one o'clock. Saddler had his light off to be safe, but he still paced from room to room. It was a little bit chilly outside, but he felt hot. He was intoxicated by the beer, and by Hernan.

He wasn't sure what sort of strange spell the Spanish boy had cast over him, but he was more than curious about how Hernan would looked tangled in his sheets, his clothes scattered about on the floor. The boy's too-small pants had captured his small behind perfectly, making Saddler sweat. It was no wonder every girl in town wanted him.

Every girl in town, and apparently the thirty-year-old American creep. But Hernan had said that he was gay, and he wasn't interested in any of the girls. That he was waiting for his Prince Charming to come in and take him away. And then…he had made the offer.

Did Hernan believe that Saddler could be his Prince Charming? The thought made Saddler's skin itch all over, and not necessarily in a bad way. He'd never seen a boy like Hernan. He'd never seen anyone so self-absorbed, but so loving and caring of everyone around him. 

He looked at the clock. 1:05.

"Goddamnit," he sighed. He sat on the edge of his bed and started thinking, chewing ferociously on his thumbnail.

Positive aspects?

Well, Hernan was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. And he had no doubt it would be the proverbial hot-and-steamy lovemaking that all the romance novelists wrote about. And bragging rights.

Negative?

Guilt. Possible conviction of sexual activity with a minor. Maybe an STD. He doubted that, though, the boy seemed clean enough. And he mentioned something about trying to experiment with Diego, but the other boy not moving quite fast enough for him. There was also Hernan's father, Geraldo. The man was a freaking psychopath, and would have Saddler's head. He wasn't sure which, but he didn't want to risk it.

Was it worth it?

Another glance at the clock. 1:11. Christ.

Half an hour, thereabouts, and Saddler was becoming uncomfortably aware of a certain type of excruciating excitement building in places he dare not think about. It didn't help when he realized the Mendoza family was home, and that Hernan was up in his room with the light on.

He was singing. Saddler could tell by the way he nodded his head and moved his hips.

Oh, god, his hips. Saddler peeked out the window, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Hernan moved them in a slow side to side movement, and was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Saddler broke a sweat. This was certainly an inadvertent striptease!

Hernan's red suspenders were the first thing that deposited themselves on the floor. Saddler gasped as the boy started to unbutton his shirt, unaware of anything around him. His white shirt slid down over his deliciously slim shoulders, and Saddler found himself wanting, without second thoughts, to run his fingers over those shoulders, kiss along his perfect collarbone.

Saddler let out a disappointed groan when Hernan pulled on a very large white t-shirt before removing his pants. He had looked forward to seeing the rest of the strange creature that had him under such a potent spell of seduction. He looked at the phone. Twenty after.

Twenty more minutes.

Saddler watched Hernan. The boy was pouring water in a basin, obviously intending to wash his hair. He took the opportunity to do a little more pacing. He had a decision to make.

He gave a few last moments to believing that just keeping his light off and sleeping the excitement and desire away before completely giving in. He wanted Hernan as badly as he'd ever wanted anyone before, and he would die to have him lay beside him tonight.

Saddler went about freshening himself up. He re-slicked his hair, sprayed a little more cologne, and changed his shirt. When he looked back up at the clock, there was ten minutes.

He wanted Hernan. He repeated it over and over to himself, until there was no doubt in his mind about it.

He glanced back out the window. Hernan looked fresh and clean and perfect, the cute little pink tinge to his cheeks visible even a distance away.

He looked back at the clock. 1:40. Twenty-till-two. He smiled, turning the light on.

Immediately, Hernan's head turned, looking outside. Upon seeing the light, a smile graced his lovely face and he moved to his door. He'd be here as soon as he snuck out. Saddler flicked the light back off, moving to stand near the door so he could let Hernan inside as soon as he arrived.

Saddler listened hard, and managed to hear the tiniest, softest footsteps in the brush that one could have imagined. He was coming barefoot, so as not to alert his family, it seemed.

A small knock, like a kitten begging to be let inside, finally came upon the door and Saddler opened it. Hernan, in all his beauty, stood before him. His slightly swollen lips were parted slightly, his brown eyes begging. He stepped inside and closed the door and without thinking Saddler crushed him against the wall, kissing him ferociously, his body reacting to Hernan's quiet moans.

Indeed, he had been right. It was going to be a very long night.


	5. 1990 Verse Four

For a few minutes, Hernan was completely unaware as to what was going on, but he soon managed to gain control over not only himself, but the entire situation. Saddler had him pinned firmly to the wall. Hernan's hands went to the older man's shoulders, one graceful leg going up around his waist.

Gazing up at him, Hernan was slightly taken aback by the intense look in Saddler's eyes. It was a look of passion, frustration and need. _This is a powerful man, _Hernan thought to himself, _and I want in on this power. I need in on this power. _He pulled Saddler to him to kiss him again. He tasted quite a bit different from Diego. The other Spaniard tasted of spices and sweat. Saddler tasted of mint and beer, and was much more forceful than Diego.

_Perfect for me, _Hernan thought excitedly. This is what he'd been waiting, been longing for. Osmund Saddler was Hernan's Prince Charming, he would rescue him from this terrible farm-boy life. And after tonight, he'd have convinced the American of it, too.

Hernan pulled back to look at him again. "You sure you're ready for this?" His voice was soft, and a little strange. He laid one hand softly on the side of Saddler's face, the other going to the older man's hair. Hernan's fingers twined expertly into Saddler's brown locks, and he stared at him with so much love and need in his eyes, that Saddler felt tears jump into his.

"Who are you?" Saddler whispered to the young man. He stared deep into Hernan's chocolate brown eyes for a long time. "And why do I feel like I've been missing you my entire life…?"

Hernan had been wondering something similar. "I don't know," he gasped, as Saddler's kisses moved to his neck. "But perhaps it explains you coming to such a backward little village like this." He let himself be led over to the bed, staring at Saddler in adoration.

-

The next time Saddler glanced at the clock it was after four. Hernan lay peacefully on his chest, content at last. Saddler looked down. "You awake?" Saddler whispered.

"Mmhmm," was the cooed response. The boy stretched, moving off of him to lay next to him. He buried his nose in Saddler's neck, totally unashamed of his nakedness. "I'm still in shock. I've never been loved quite so long, I should say."

Saddler choked and blushed furiously, happy that the lights remained off. 

"Or so vigorously. That was very intense…"

Saddler suddenly yawned loudly. "You were good too. My first time with a guy…"

Hernan laughed playfully, poking him a few times. "Oh, I'm no guy. I'm still a boy, you're just afraid to say it." He leaned up to nuzzle and nip at Saddler's ear, causing the man to draw in a sharp gasp.

"Shouldn't we get to sleep? Your father will have us up early to work, won't he?"

Hernan laughed. "After the amount of booze he consumed? He won't be up until dinner!" He snuggled closer.

Saddler looked at him and smiled. He was really a beautiful creature, and very lovable. "Hernan…I think you already know this, but…"

Hernan looked up. This hardly seemed the time for Saddler to be revealing his past, but Hernan wasn't about to stop him. He wanted to know as much about his new lover as he could.

"I'm a father. I have two kids, Delilah and Noah. They're three and four…Noah will be turning five soon." He bit his lip. "I recently was divorced, and my wife left me with nothing. Not even rights to see the kids. I had no money, and I wanted to find a place that would do…basically what your family is doing for me. And I had to get away from America. They're corrupt legal system haunts me…"

Hernan listened without interrupting, letting Saddler know he was still awake by tracing patterns on his chest. "I'm so sorry," he finally whispered when the man paused.

"Don't be. You're taking away that pain now," he whispered, kissing his forehead. Hernan purred and Saddler continued. "I came here on written invitation from Chief Mendez. I flew out immediately, feeling like there was a reason."

Hernan waited for his next words, his brown eyes shining up at Saddler longingly.

"Let me make love to you again, Hernan."

-

This time, Hernan had been allowed to light a solitary candle so that he could see his lover's face. Saddler's meticulous hair was now hanging in his eyes as he leaned over Hernan, his eyes dreamy and barely focused.

His breathing was ragged, but Hernan managed to keep his in heavy, even gasps that made Saddler wild. He leaned down and kissed Hernan, feeling as though he might die of happiness.

Saddler observed everything about him. Hernan didn't sweat, though his skin was almost too hot to touch. He was quiet, only moaning when taken by force. Saddler thought Hernan was most beautiful laying under him, his long legs wrapped around Saddler's waist, the sheets tangled around his body.

Afterward, when they both lay panting, sticky and sweaty, he pulled Hernan back into his protective arms and deposited several kisses on his cheeks and lips. Hernan smiled and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. 

Hernan cooed softly. "Osmund, be my lover."

"I already am, mi amor," he whispered, stroking his hair. "I already am."


	6. 1991 Verse One

Year: 1991

"Ah, damn!" Santiago Mendez cursed, dropping his knife. He'd been chopping garlic and nicked his finger. He pulled his hand back quick so the blood didn't get into the pile of minced cloves. He stuck his finger in his mouth and waited for the searing pain to stop.

His older brother, Bitores, glanced at him from the kitchen table. "Be careful."

"Hopefully la familia Mendoza won't realize there's a bit of finger mixed in with the garlic," Santiago muttered. His dark hair fell into his face and he sighed. He looked positively miserable.

His older brother went to him and wrapped his arms around him, kissing his forehead. "We're all in hell. This year's dry season is beating the snot out of Geraldo's farm, and god knows how many chickens we've lost."

"I don't wanna think about it," Santiago muttered, tossing his hair behind his shoulder. "Hopefully things will get better after this month."

"They always do. Come on, let's get dinner going."

Santiago nodded and pulled his hair into a messy ponytail. Bitores pulled back and observed him with his one good eye. He was the "town vampire," as Hernan and the other boys would whisper. He was thirty-six, but his face was totally unaffected by time. Only from his posture could people tell that he was aging.

Santiago reached to a cabinet near the stove and pulled down some gauze and wrapped it around his finger. He taped it and continued mincing the garlic cloves.

His dull brown eyes focused on the task at hand, and only looked up when he heard his name. 

"Santiago!"

"Lola?" He turned and his brother's fiancé nearly tackled him, laughing excitedly.

"I'm back for two weeks, how _are _you, dear?" She cooed, smiling at him like a big sister smiles at a baby brother. He could barely return the smile. They were the same age, but because she was engaged to Bitores, she had a bit of a superiority complex. He couldn't help like her, though.

"Oh, no better, no worse," he said returning the hug before she went over to Bitores. They sat down at the table, leaving Santiago to finish dinner. He didn't mind. He liked doing things like this on his own. He found his older brother a bit clumsy at best.

Thirty seconds later, Santiago heard the strangest sound he'd ever heard in all his thirty-seven years. 

_Krrrrrrrrshhhhhhhhpshshshshshs. _"Holy hell!"

"Hernan?" Santiago grinned, poking his head out the open window. Sure enough, the Mendoza family was outside, and Hernan had taken a rough tumble into a rose bush. Saddler was biting his lip, trying not to smile.

Geraldo was holding back what seemed to be a wild amount of anger, Maria was emotionless, and Juan was doubled over in hysterics. Hernan stood calmly, picking the thorns off of his clothes. "Ow…"

Santiago hurried around to the door and opened it for them, glancing at the fuming Geraldo nervously. Santiago may have been the "town vampire," but Geraldo was easily the "town psycho." He looked right past Santiago and greeted Bitores, ignoring Lola and the younger Mendez brother completely. 

Maria was a bit more pleasant. She gave Santiago the customary kisses on the cheek before stepping into the room to greet Bitores and Lola. Hernan smiled at everyone before slumping into a chair. Juan skipped in and sat near him, and Saddler entered shaking everyone's hands firmly.

Santiago slid the duck roast into the oven and took a seat at the table. Everyone was engaged in their own conversations, but he stayed separated from them all. Farm talk bored him, and from the looks of it, Hernan and Juan were bored out of their minds, too.

Santiago watched Saddler, impressed. In a year, the man had learned Spanish so well, he was able to communicate fluently with Geraldo and Bitores about the dry month, the tomato plants, and only stumbled over a few words when the livestock were mentioned.

What Santiago didn't know—but might have been able to guess from the secretive glances that Hernan and Saddler continued to throw at one another—was that Hernan was "rewarding" Saddler for learning so well.

Santiago, however, was studying Saddler carefully. He was brilliant…too brilliant to be just a somebody in the little town. Saddler was different, special. He had adapted to third-world life with ease, seemed pleased to be there with them, and did his best on every task that was given to him.

Santiago's hand went into his pocket, stroking the sacred Illuminados pendant…one that had been lost in Spain for decades. The little Castellan, Ramon Salazar, didn't know of the sins that his father and father's father had committed, but Ramon was his chance to save it.

Santiago was the only one left. Even his brother abandoned the old ways, something that made him toss and turn in his sleep at night. Santiago started when Ramon's name came up in conversation.

"…can't bring myself to trust Ramon's father," Geraldo was muttering. "I'm sure he beats Gloria, but there's no proof on the parts of her body that she does show."

"Except the way she carries herself," Lola said gloomily. "I want to demand to have her in for a checkup."

"One of these days, he'll turn on Ramon," Hernan said, finally speaking up. "Why would he just hit her? Think about it. You know why he does it, right? After she had Ramon, she couldn't have any more babies…"

Geraldo, who had been staring at his son, dumbfounded, suddenly jumped back into reality. "And the son that she did have has a brain tumor!" He groaned, sinking back into the chair.

Santiago shook his head. He didn't have anything to say, but everyone at the table wore the same pitying expression. That is, until Juan kicked Hernan under the table. Older brother lunged at younger brother. "You little prick!"

Father gets angry. "BOYS!"

-

Santiago had served the roast duck with flare, and everyone seemed excited. Even Saddler, who had had some trouble getting used to this Spanish peasant food had leaned forward eagerly when he was served.

Talk of the Salazar family was quashed during dinner and they talked of more happy things. Juan was learning English from Saddler, and happily sang his ABC's and counted to twenty in English. Everyone watched with a smile, but no one was prouder than Hernan, who watched his brother with intense pride.

It was Lola's turn to strike up conversation. "So, Hernan…who's the lucky girl on your list?"

"Whu-?" Hernan stuttered, almost dribbling food on himself. The question caught him so off-guard that he couldn't even think of answer. He stared at her blankly.

"Well, Carmen is quite a qualified customer!" Geraldo chuckled causing Saddler to scowl inadvertently. Hernan continued to stay silent. Realizing that it was a sensitive subject, Lola backed off, picking at her food absently.

Hernan seemed to have completely lost his appetite. No one said anything. Santiago drew the lines and shot a glance at his brother who nodded.

The younger Mendez brother smiled to himself. This was going to be very, very interesting.


	7. 1991 Verse Two

For a few weeks, Hernan had willed himself not to think about it. Carmen hadn't shown her face in a while, and his father was talking less and less of marrying him off. For now, Hernan thought, I am safe.

Each night, he snuck out silently to his lover's small shack. He lay in Saddler's arms, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how long this would continue until either someone found out, or Saddler got tired of him. That thought frightened him, and he cried silently into Saddler's chest, careful not to wake the man. 

Each morning they awoke before daybreak and got dressed, going to work before even Diego arrived. It was a good life, but Hernan demanded the easy work. He wouldn't touch a shovel, so he was placed in charge of gathering eggs, and pulling weeds, picking ripe crops when necessary.

It wasn't until one particularly chill night, when Saddler and Hernan were so wound up in each other that they might not have cared if Geraldo stormed in, that Saddler got his first glimpse of Carmen.

Hernan slept contentedly in Saddler's arms, his breath gentle on his lover's chest. Saddlers fingers twined absently around Hernan's black hair, his chin just over Hernan's head. They were in total harmony when they heard the girl's tiny footsteps approaching the main house.

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her hair was long and straight, braided meticulously. Her skin was easily as perfect as Hernan's. Her lips were red, her dress was rich, her neck was long and graceful. She had tiny little feet and walked so lightly, it was as if an angel was trying to peek into Hernan's window. 

Saddler hated her. His lip curled, his eyes narrowed, and he made a sound not unlike a hiss that stirred Hernan from his peaceful rest. Hernan sat up slowly, peeking out the window above Saddler's bed. 

"Are you f'reel?" He muttered, shaking his head. "What does she want?"

"I can think of something," Saddler growled, grabbing for his glasses. 

They watched her peek into the window, obviously looking for Hernan. 

"If I had a damn gun," the boy snarled, teeth clenched. Saddler hushed him and they watched. 

Saddler had never hated anyone as badly as he had hated Carmen at that moment, not even his ex-wife. His clenched fists trembled and his cheeks turned red, and he wrapped his arms around Hernan, squeezing him perhaps a little too tight. 

Hernan didn't mind, sliding one hand up Saddler's shirt. He didn't want to belong to any woman, especially not her. He wanted to belong to Saddler, this ridiculously possessive beast that wanted nothing else than for Hernan to lay beside him and look pretty.

That was Hernan's job.

And he liked it that way.

Saddler looked down at the smirking boy in his arms and kissed him, replacing his smirk with a breathless pout. "Your mine, Hernan," He snarled, tugging Hernan's shirt up over his head. "And I swear to god, if anyone else ever lays a hand on you, so help me god, I will kill them."

Hernan liked the sound of that. He laid on his back as Saddler crawled over him, and gazed at the ceiling. He was not going to marry Carmen.

The mailman rarely came to the tiny village, so when he did, it was a big deal. Of course, it was Hernan who would go and wait for him as he was the oldest of the children, and the adults couldn't be bothered. Every day was an important work day in the village, but for Hernan, there was nothing better to do than sit and wait as the mailman dug through a pile in his truck.

Hernan gave him an annoyed look when he handed over a singular envelope. "This is it?" He said in Spanish.

"Yeah, that's it," the old mailman growled. "And it's not for you. Make sure it gets to it's proper recipient, you hear?"

"Yes," Hernan said, stomping away. "I will."

Halfway home, Juan came scampering up to Hernan, causing the older boy to sigh. "Isn't it nap time for you or something?" The older boy said.

"I haven't had naptime since I was three," Juan said, vaguely annoyed.

"Wh-how old are you?!" Hernan asked in a convincingly false

"I'm eight," the boy sniffed indignantly. "You don't know that? My own brother. I don't like you anymore."

"Don't like me!?" Hernan made a distressed sound and threw himself on the ground, grabbing Juan as he fell. The boy shrieked and giggled as his older brother put him in a headlock that he couldn't break.

"L'eggo, Hernan, l'eggo or you'll suffocate me!"

"He doesn't like me!" Hernan shrieked, and the boy giggled.

"I was kidding!"

Hernan stopped. "Promise?"

"Uh-huh."

"Swear on it."

"Mama says we can't swear!"

"I don't see Mama anywhere!" Hernan resumed his headlock on the boy, cackling madly.

"Okay, Hernan, I promise, I promise!" He squeaked.

They made their way to the farm and Juan set about chasing the chickens out of their pen while Hernan gathered the eggs.

Hernan felt eyes on him and he turned to see Saddler watching him possessively as he worked. Hernan smiled smugly, and didn't notice his father watching from the cow pen.


	8. 1991 Verse Three

"Did you see this?" Hernan was holding out a folded paper invitation to a child's birthday party. It was elegant, but the Spanish was poor. "Our family got one, so I'm assuming that you did too."

Santiago Mendez nodded and sat down, patting around on the table for his pipe. He found it, lit it and stared seriously at Hernan, his strange beauty making the boy recoil a bit. "It's rather strange, isn't it? Little Ramon will be seven this year. Six birthdays behind us, and we've not been invited to a one. Why now?"

"Are you going?" Hernan asked, sitting gingerly in the chair next to Santiago. He didn't particularly like being close to the man.

"Of course I'm going. And you are too."

"Huh?! No way, Santiago, I'll have to get all dressed up, and-"

"And what?" Santiago said, standing and cutting Hernan off. "You'll turn down an invitation from the Castellans and ruin your family's reputation? Oh no, Hernan, you'll be going."

Hernan pouted.

"You want me to _what_?" Saddler snapped, whipping around to stare at Hernan. The boy had once again snuck out of his house to visit with the American and it was nearing one in the morning.

"I want you to go to the castle with us," Hernan said quietly, staring seriously at his lover. "Dad wants you to, too. He says if you don't, it'll make us look really rude." Hernan sat at the edge of the bed, his hands folded into his lap. Saddler was turned away from him, shoving some clothes into the small dresser he had been given.

"I don't think so. My Spanish still isn't great, and I'll look like a total fool if I can't answer any of their questions," he glanced over his shoulder at Hernan, his glasses catching the moonlight.

Hernan raised his voice again. "I really want you to come."

"No, Hernan, and that's—_ouch!_" Saddler jumped forward and spun around, rubbing his bottom indignantly. Hernan had given him quite a sharp little pinch, and the boy was glaring at him, more annoyed than anything.

"I said I want you to come with me."

"Okay, fine. Just don't pinch me again, that hurt."

Saddler had never seen Hernan or Juan dressed up, but on that particular day in midsummer, Maria had both of her boys in their best clothes, and was powdering their faces.

Both boys had identical mocha colored skin, and large, soft brown eyes that Hernan was busy lining with sharp black eyeliner. Juan whined as his brother made his eyes up, closing his eyes instead of looking up when ordered.

Hernan checked to make sure that his eyeliner didn't smudge and grabbed his brother's hand, tugging him outside. "Come on, Juan."

"I don't want to go," the four year old whined. The boy had had a hard day. Hernan had to wash his hair four times because it was so dirty, his mother tried to fit him into last years clothes which didn't even kind of fit, and his brother had put eyeliner on him.

Saddler scooped the boy up and carried him, and Juan was content. Hernan rolled his eyes.

"This is why you wanted me to come, isn't it?" Saddler said to Hernan in a low voice. He had let Juan down to run and meet little Ramon, who was more than happy to see another child. The two of them played quietly, discussing what must have been terribly important matters in the world of children.

"Yeah," Hernan said quietly, barely moving his mouth.

Carmen and her parents were there.

When Carmen spotted him, she let out a high pitched shriek and flung her arms around Hernan's shoulders, cooing madly at him. "It feels like it's been forever since I've seen you."

"Never long enough," he muttered, but Carmen just laughed, believing he was merely playing.

Dinner was strange. Gloria, Ramon's mother, had excused herself rather early, and Salazar followed fifteen minutes later, leaving Ramon without his family. Saddler and Carmen sat on either side of Hernan, but Carmen had wound herself around Hernan and wouldn't let him feed himself. She insisted on feeding him, and while Geraldo and Maria thought it was cute, Santiago and Bitores waited in silent amusement for the boy to explode.

Carmen grabbed Hernan's cheeks and turned his head towards her, a mistake considering the amount of wine stored in Hernan's mouth. "Our fathers agreed to let us marry next Sunday!" she squealed.

She was immediately sprayed with red wine and knocked off of her chair by one of Hernan's flailing arms. He wiped his mouth furiously and hopped up, mouthing silent obscenities at the two men who had arranged the marriage. He stormed off, knocking his chair over, Juan and Ramon following him curiously.

"That was strange," Carmen muttered, standing up and using a napkin to clean her face. "I wonder why he reacted that way."

"Do you ever get the impression that perhaps he doesn't care for you as much as you care for him?" Santiago asked curiously, nibbling on an olive.

"No, why?"

Hernan flopped down in one of the red plush benches that lined the mezzanine and stared around. _They'll wed us here, _he thought gloomily as Juan crawled into his lap. He let Ramon squeeze onto his other leg. "Hey guys."

Juan stared up at his brother. "You looked real mad," the little boy said. "I thought you was gonna kill her."

"I wasn't going to kill her. Why would I do that?"

"You really hate her," Ramon said quietly, his pale blue eyes staring up at Hernan. Hernan was overcome with the strange desire to kiss the boy, but he resisted it. "If you don't want to marry her, then you shouldn't have to."

"Who _do _you wanna marry, Hernan?" Juan chirped, tugging Hernan's hair to get him to look back at him. "I bet it's Mister Saddler."

Hernan's heart stopped as he stared at his brother. The boy had an uncanny knack for nailing problems on the head and making the adults in his life look like fools.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he muttered.


End file.
